


A Daughter of Queens

by QueenOfRohirrim



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Canonical Character(s), Moral Lessons, Strength of Women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 13:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20009293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfRohirrim/pseuds/QueenOfRohirrim
Summary: Éowyn was the child of the fair Lady Théodwyn, the sister that her uncle loved most.However, Théoden has more than one sister, and in her mother’s absence, Éowyn’s aunts have taught her much about what it means to be a woman of great strength.





	1. A Lesson In Power

**Author's Note:**

> Another bittersweet Théoden & Éowyn fic because I just can’t seem to stop with the Royal Rohan Family. 
> 
> Also, I really wanted to bring the characters of Théoden’s three unnamed sisters to life. 
> 
> So here you are! I introduce to you the Ladies Maethild, Goldrid, and Beyryth of Rohan! I hope you enjoy them :)

Lady Maethild Steelsheen was a brute of a woman, and young Eowyn adored her for it.

“The men say you shouldn’t be allowed to do that.” The small child watched as her aunt swung her massive sword against that of one of her eldest daughter’s. Lady Steelsheen intended for her girls to be ready for battle when they came of age to fight properly, and her older two were nearing that time. Sparring and training them to handle their weapons was essential.

“Allowed to do what, my little dove?” The Lady Of Steel asked, throwing down her daughter’s sword and shoving her own back into its sheath at her side before she turned to face her niece.

“I heard them speaking at Uncle’s table this morning.” Eowyn explained. “They say that war is no woman’s game. Only men can play at it and win.”

Maethild smiled softly at her littlest sister’s girl. She did look so much like her mother.

“What do you think about that, sweet Èowyn?” The Lady asked her niece. 

The child scrunched up her nose. “I think men are foolish.” She declared.

Maethild nodded with a great laugh. “Then you are wise, dear child. For that is the only wisdom I’ve ever known to hold forever true.”


	2. A Lesson In Kindness

Fair Lady Goldrid was now the Queen of Dale, married to the King, Brand, son of Bain. 

To her home in Edoras, she seldom returned. Yet when she did visit, the people rejoiced, for the second daughter of Thengel was generous and brought with her many luxuries from Dale.

Midwinter was the time when her visits were looked for most often. For the dear Lady did enjoy surprising the children of her birth land with new gifts and proper winter clothes to wear.

Éowyn could hardly contain her joy when the horns rang out along the city gates and the guards sent word to Meduseld, where the King dwelt, that the fair Lady Goldrid was approaching Edoras with wagonloads of gifts. It had been far too long since her last journey home, and the little lady missed her aunt dearly.

“My little loves! How you have grown!” Goldrid exclaimed as her royal escort helped her down from her carriage. She knelt then and took Éowyn, Éomer, and Théodred into her arms all at once, squeezing them tight and kissing them all on the cheek. 

She always greeted them first, and presented them with their gifts, which she had picked for them herself from the markets of Dale. Once that was done, she hugged and kissed her brother, the King, presenting him with a present as well, and after that came Éowyn’s favorite part of Auntie Goldrid’s visits.

“I think that the children will all be very pleased with their new toys, Auntie.” The small girl smiled up at the Queen, who had relieved the driver of her carriage from his duties long enough for herself and her niece to take a drive into the streets of Edoras and make their way to the orphanage at the Southern edge of the city gates. 

“I hope they will be.” Goldrid smiled softly, pulling back easily of the reigns to her cart horses as they approached the building. “And I hope also that the nurses can find use for the coin I’ve brought them. Perhaps new beds for the little ones, or even a new addition to the home. They seem to be running out of room here.”

Éowyn always remembered the tears of sorrow in Queen Goldrid’s eyes when they approached the orphanage. She remembered them even if her aunt tried to hide them for the sake of the little ones who all came running to greet them once the nurses who tended to the home called them out to the street.

“The Lady Goldrid has come home, little dears!” A short, plump woman yelled through the front doors. “She’s brought gifts!”

Éowyn also remembered how Goldrid smiled whenever she handed a child a lovely new toy wrapped in pretty paper and ribbon. She remembered how the Queen of Dale entered the home, once all the gifts were given, and how she smiled and laughed, and danced with the children, who loved her so. 

“I’m glad you’ve come home again, Auntie.” Éowyn told Goldrid as the two prepared to leave the Children’s Home for the Golden Hall once more. 

“I am glad as well, my dear.” Goldrid smiled to her niece, taking up the reigns to her cart horses and giving them a slight snap to urge the beasts on. “I’ve missed my home in Rohan so.”

“Rohan has missed you, I think.” Éowyn answered honestly. “You make the people smile.” 

Goldrid looked as if she might shed a tear at Éowyn’s sweet words. “It is a Queen’s duty to care for her people, my love.” She said then to the girl. “If you remember only one thing in this life, remember that we must love our countrymen as if they all were our blood.”


	3. A Lesson In Wisdom

Lady Beyryth was a tall yet quiet woman. 

She had never married, never had children of her own, and to many she appeared an oddity of the Noble House of Eorl. 

There were plenty of jokes made about Beyryth the Old Maid, and once or twice, Éowyn had sunk her fist into the gut or face of a nasty boy who dared to insult her aunt in her presence. 

Beyryth deserved none of the rotten talk that was slung at her by the common folk. 

In fact, she was a wonderful woman, and as sharp as a whip. 

On her visits to Meduseld, Lady Beyryth spent much of her time in the library, reading or writing in books of her own. 

In these books she wrote the loveliest of poems, stories of great adventurers, and rewritings of ancient lore long forgotten by most in Rohan. 

Éowyn could listen to her Auntie Beyryth read from her books forever. She especially enjoyed her tales of the great Kings that lived long ago. Of Éorl the Young, and of his courageous son Brégo, who had built the Golden Hall and the City of Edoras around it. 

However, Éowyn’s most favorite book that had been written by her Aunt Beyryth was one that had yet to be finished, and even stranger, it was one she had yet to read.

“Can you read me more from your story about Uncle?” The small girl asked Beyryth from beneath her bed covers after the Lady had just finished reading to her the last few chapters of “The Grand Adventures of Maethild Steelsheen, Mighty Sword of Meduseld”, a series of stories that she’d written about her eldest sister. 

Beyryth closed up the book in her lap carefully and smiled to her niece. “My love, I’ve told you, that book is not yet fit to read.”

“But you’ve not finished with your stories of Auntie Maethild!” Éowyn protested. “If you can read those to me, why can’t you read your stories of Uncle’s great deeds as well?”

“My darling girl...” Beyryth tried to dissuade her ever determined niece. “It is far past time for you to be sleeping, and I have read to you five stories already.”

“I want to hear just one more!” Éowyn insisted, her bottom lip popping out in a pitiful pout that stung Beyryth’s heart. “Please, Auntie.” The little Lady begged her. “Just one story! I want to hear from the book about Uncle so very much!”

Beyryth sighed, defeated, and called out the door of Éowyn’s bedchamber to a passing hand maiden, whom she sent then to the library for the book in question. 

“I had intended for you to read these tales once you had grown, sweet Éowyn.” Beyryth admitted to her niece once the unfinished book had been brought to her. 

“Why, Auntie?” Éowyn asked curiously, hugging her pillow in her lap as she waited patiently for Beyryth to begin her tales of Théoden King, her dear brother. 

But Lady Beyryth paused for a moment upon opening the book. “I do not wish to cause you sorrow.” She said then, looking worriedly upon her young niece.

“But I am very brave, Auntie.” Éowyn assured the Lady Beyryth. “And monsters can’t jump from their storybooks to chase me.”

Beyryth’s worried frown turned slowly to an gentle, endearing smile. 

“You have more wisdom than many, my child.” She told Éowyn before looking down to the few words she had written in the unfinished book she now held. “Valiant and true was the heart of the prince Théoden, Thengel’s son...” She began to read. 

“Tall was he, and handsome, with golden hair and eyes of shimmering blue. A true maiden’s dream, one could say. Though in these early days of Théoden, the brave and merciful, only one maid held his heart tightly in the clutch of her tiny palm. This was fair Théodwyn, the littlest sister of the prince, and she was truly the sister that he loved the most...”


	4. A Lesson Fondly Remembered

“Éowyn...” Théoden grunted when he felt his little niece climbing up into his bed and snuggling up next to him.

“Uncle?” She asked, not moving to grasp a handful of his hair this time. She wasn’t at all tired. Not yet, anyway. 

Théoden yawned deeply and peeked open an eye, moving his head slightly to try and look over his shoulder at the girl. “Yes, child?” He answered her, another yawn escaping him. 

Eowyn moved onto her little knees upon the mattress and leaned over the King’s body, her little elbows pressing into his side and causing him to grunt in discomfort. “Did you truly love my mother the most?” She asked her uncle.

“What?” Théoden muttered tiredly, turning over in bed so that he could face his niece. “What’s this now?” He yawned again. “Who told you that?”

“Auntie Beyryth said so in her book.” Éowyn told the King. “Is it true, Uncle?”

Théoden blinked and his vision cleared so that he could see his precious sister’s daughter, her blue eyes twinkling with the same curiosity that Théodwyn had always held in her own. 

“I love all of my sisters dearly.” The King told his little niece. 

“But that’s not what Auntie Beyryth said, Uncle.” Éowyn pressed. “She said that Mumma was the sister that you loved most of all.”

Théoden felt a great ache come over him. It was a grief that he had thought long buried. 

“Your mother differed much from your aunts.” He admitted to Éowyn then, a haunting image of a once fair and gentle face grown cold and lifeless gnawing at his heart. “She was the youngest of the four...She needed me more than my other sisters ever had.”

“What do you mean, Uncle?” Éowyn asked, quite confused. 

Somehow, her sweet, innocent voice forced the terrible picture from the King’s mind, and he found himself remembering something much sweeter.

A small, golden haired girl trotted alongside him as he walked through the markets at their mother’s side. Her small, chubby hand clung to his own as her flaxen curls bounced about her shoulders.

Her laughter rung in his ears, and he could still hear her darling voice sing the mostly forgotten words to old songs she’d heard their father humming. 

Sweet Théodwyn...

“Your Grandmother was a bit overwhelmed with three elder daughters that needed to receive their lessons.” Théoden told his niece. “Your mother was very small when the other girls came of age to be schooled. So, my father entrusted her to me.”

“To you?” Éowyn asked with great fascination. 

“Yes.” Théoden confirmed with a gentle nod of his head. “I was to keep her safe while my mother tended to Maethild, Goldrid, and Beyryth, and it was this task of mine that brought your mother and I so close.”

“So you did love her the most?” Éowyn asked. 

Théoden managed a small smile. “I told you, dear. I love all of my sweet sisters.”

“But you said that Mumma was different.” Éowyn reminded the King, who nodded slightly again. 

“Aye. She was different.” He sighed. “She understood me. No one knew better my heart and my mind than she...She was gentle, and kind, and she loved so fiercely...”

He stopped, as he felt tears threaten to rise up from behind his eyes. 

“Uncle?” Éowyn asked worriedly. “Are you alright, Uncle?”

Again Théoden nodded, then carefully he leaned forward to kiss her soft little cheek. “You are much like her, my dear.” He told his niece. “Her loving heart beats still within you.” 

The King then rolled over again onto his back and closed his eyes to let sleep take him.

Though, before that could be, he felt the familiar tug of a little hand tangling itself into his hair, and the rustling noise of the covers as a small body snuggled against him.

“Goodnight, Uncle.” Little Éowyn yawned.

Théoden smiled softly, a myriad of bitter sweet memories beginning to run through his mind once more.

“Goodnight, dear child.” He whispered in reply. “My darling little Wyn...”


End file.
